


Good Morning

by Yve



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M, Fantasizing, Good Morning prompt, Male Solo, Masturbation, RFValentineFever2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:43:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yve/pseuds/Yve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The princess of Selphia has given him royal orders to be her wake-up call, but the town's dwarven blacksmith has a different kind of iron to temper before he can perform that duty to her first thing in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

  
"Why the hell did I agree to that again?" Bado the blacksmith grumbled groggily as the mechanical tinkling ring of the device Arthur had described as an 'alarm clock' shredded the lovely dream he'd been having. He reached out a big, angular hand and swatted the thing from the top the way the prince had showed him to silence it. "I gotta move somewhere farther from royalty... orders... tch." He mumbled in half-coherent bitterness.

He didn't bother opening his eyes. It was before sunrise anyway. Why should he have to get up before anyone else in town to answer a Princess's orders for a wake-up call, anyway? It just wasn't fair.

This new wake up time was bad enough on it's own, but now he had to go straight from the euphoric half-dozing arousal of a pleasant dream with her to the in-person visual of the very same young woman sprawled on her own bed in her delicate night dress. More than once he'd gone all the way to her room to perform the duty she'd saddled him with only to fail to actually wake her on account of the visible arousal seeing her like that stirred him to. Often failing to deliver the requested wake-up call wasn't nearly so bad or humiliating as waking a princess while trying to hide a rather adamant early morning erection.

He groaned at the thought.

"Damn her..."

Damn her for what? Being too lovely? Too young for him? Too unnatainable? No, more than anything it was the torture of being right there... with that perfectly exquisite woman right in front of him and yet so far out of reach he may as well be in another country. He could deal with it better if she didn't insist on making up reasons to have him around her...

'Damn her..' ...for giving him hope? For being close enough to tease and taunt his desire for her. For ordering him of all people to see her every damned morning in her bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth, his manhood responding to the mental image with a twitch, already erect form the dream he'd had interrupted by the alarm clock. He sighed.

"You'd better start taking this more seriously." Arthur had chastised him the day before. "She'll give up on you if you don't show up."

"If only..." He'd grumbled in reply, earning a disapproving look over the prince's spectacles.

"Orders are orders, Bado. Especially royal orders." He said in his usual calm voice, the barest hint of impatience coloring his tone. The prince had excellent composure. No one could deny that. "Besides, a good performance with these duties might earn you some royal patronage for that floundering business of yours."

Bado had glared at the prince for that, to no evident effect. Arthur merely stared back, serene yet immovable. Now here he was, awake before dawn and trying to muster the will to make good on the promise to obey those orders.

Well, if he had no real choice but to go to her, he'd better make an effort at being presentable, he supposed reluctantly, which meant getting rid of the rather obvious evidence between his legs. He braced his heels on the mattress, lifted his backside off its surface, and slipped his undershorts down around his thighs. His erection bobbed eagerly up once freed from the garment. He frowned at it.

'While I'm cursing her,' he thought, 'double damn her for making me as unmanageably stirred up as a teenager.' He sighed aloud, knowing behind the mental admonishments that it was hardly her fault he was so hot for her. But what could he do? She was... perfect. His eyes fluttered closed. The image of her took shape in his imagination, all sweetly feminine curves, long eyelashes, soft, pink lips parting to make way for her high, delicate voice...

Another groan escaped him, more desperate desire than frustration, now. He trailed his fingertips down his length, imagining her slender hands on him instead; imagining her voice exhaling his name, a whine of pure feverish lust woven into her breath. His groin twitched, and he stilled for a beat, clenching his teeth on a little pang of guilt for using her so, even if no one would ever know; even if it were only in his imagination.

There was no way he was the only one to think of her as he touched himself. Hell, he could think of half a dozen young men in Selphia who were _definitely_ smitten with her already. And yes, he resented them; mostly because he resented himself for wanting her so completely. It was awfully easy to disdain in them what he rued in himself. A thirty-six year old man had no business with a twenty year old that anyone around here would sanction. But, even if he were younger... a guy like him and a _princess_? It didn't bear thinking about. Impossible.

Sure she wasn't an _actual_ princess by royal lineage or anything like that, but how could _he_ expect reciprocation from anyone so _lovely_? With such gorgeous emerald eyes, that pale, slender throat, perky, perfect breasts, and a plump little rear that would fit just right in his lap, grinding against his almost painfully hard erection. He absently closed his large hand around his substantial girth as he pictured the head of his manhood vanishing into her velvet-wet flower as she lowered those lovely, curved hips of hers onto his groin. His breath made a strained noise as he exhaled through clenched teeth.

No, it wasn't even worth considering. What would she want with a big oaf like him?

A liquid pearl of precum oozed out of him, perched on the tip of his erection like a bead of glass. He rolled his fingers over it, twisting his grip gently around the head and shaft to spread that slickness to his advantage. He pictured those big green eyes gazing upward at him as she licked her lips and lowered her mouth to his erection, a curious pink tongue tentatively flitting out to taste him...

Bado groaned and stroked himself slowly over the whole length of his dick with his large, squareish hand as his imagination took him to that fantasy.

It would never actually happen. So what was the harm in it?

Her lips would caress the tip... parting further as she pressed her mouth over the head, taking him in... hot... wet... her tongue writhing against the turgid flesh of his length.

This was how it always went. This was how his conscience lost the fight each time until he was utterly lost to a shamefully indulgent fantasy of fucking her senseless or having her pleasure him to the point of losing himself to the blind wanting, the unbearable craving of completion.

As if determined to torture him in the greatest variety of ways, his mind flicked from one imagined scene of sexual fever to another, one moment pushing him to imagine her saliva running down his shaft as she strove to envelope as much of him as she could into her mouth, the next moment painting for him a heavenly picture of her atop him, rolling her hips against his and tilting her head back as she moaned aloud at the pleasure of having him buried to the hilt in her heat while she rode him.

His heart began to race, the pulse of it surging against the already swollen state of his dick in his fist.

It didn't matter anyway, right? What mattered was that he could face her without revealing this; without broadcasting how hot he burned for her. Like, for example, how furiously he wanted to bury his face between her thighs and pull wails of frantic desire from her throat, savoring the sound of her begging and the taste of her all in one fiery moment.

His breath caught up to his hammering heart, panting as he grew close, the electric twinge foreshadowing climax jolting through him now as his hips bucked, thrusting himself into his hand the way he wished he were thrusting into _her_.

His imagination wickedly reconstructed memories of her sweet, feminine voice, high and soft and light, into shrill gasps and cries of ecstasy. He could almost hear it, almost feel the delicious weight and warmth of her against him, the slick heat of her pussy, dripping wet in her fever for him. He could almost taste her.

"Frey..." He breathed, tilting his head back as his hand and hips drove him harder and faster toward finishing. "Cum for me, pet..." He exhaled the words, drunk with lust, imagining sighing them into her ear as he fucked her senseless with pleasure.

He pictured her back arching, eyes squeezed shut and jaw dropped open, spasming with pleasure as she came, driven to that utmost euphoria of orgasm by his thick, hard cock inside her.

"Frey..." He gasped again, the farther half of his cock swelling even further, fit to burst with anticipation.

He pictured her face flushed red with her climax as he rode on the heels of her orgasm and let go inside her, cumming for all he was worth into the woman he adored, his own voice turned loose as he moaned her name aloud again and again.

That sound was part of both his daydream and the reality of jerking himself off in the pre-dawn hour to the mere _idea_ of Frey, princess of Selphia, and singular focus of his every desire. He _did_ moan her name aloud alone in his bed, tension curling his spine as he grew motionless except for his dominant hand, face flushing and mouth agape as he finished himself off with rapid, determined motions. Cum gushed out of him in pressurized streamers, splattering the dark undershirt he slept in. He went limp, flopping backward onto the mattress and panting his way back from that breathless release.

The last spurts of ejaculate oozed over his knuckles as his cock twitched a few more times in his grasp. He just lay there, exhausted even before dawn.

"Gods what am I going to do?" He panted. How could he take this for much longer? How long would he have to suffer a wrestling match with his desire for her every single morning before he had to be _there_ , calling her back from her dreams to wake to his voice? How could he go to her in her bedroom now, having just cum all over himself moaning her name?

But it wasn't like he'd had much choice... It was either that, fail to fulfill her orders to him, or appear before her with a prominent stand of morning timber between his legs.

He sighed, sat up, and pulled the soiled shirt off, cleaning himself up with the garment before tossing it into a dirty laundry hamper.

The blacksmith stood up to his full height and dressed, leaving his hair a ruffled mess without a pause for self consciousness. Before sunrise he couldn't give a damn what his hair looked like as long as he wasn't pitching a tent in front of anyone, especially Frey.

He pulled on the loose trousers, boots, tunic and vest that had become a kind of uniform for him on workdays, and shuffled out the front door, squinting reproachfully at the cresting pink and gold sunrise at the treeline to the East.

It didn't take long to make his way to the castle, using the East entrance adjacent to the Princess' own chambers. He made his way by memory through the dim halls, his big footsteps echoing slightly in the vaulted ceilings of the great edifice until they trodded silently onto the carpet of her bedroom floor. He swallowed, tension crawling up his backbone as he approached the bed.

Sunlight streamed in from East-facing windows onto the bed. There she was, a splendid show of artfully dishevelled clothing revealing tantalizing thighs, the curved outer edge of a plump, perky breast, and a hint of lace he really shouldn't have been able to see between her hips. Bado's brow fretted and he frowned down at the softly sleeping princess, the angle of her throat opened wide, showing off the delicate, pearl-white flesh of her neck. Her lips parted slightly and she sighed in her sleep. His heart fluttered, missing it's rhythm as he stared down at her.

The only thing worse than getting on with it was standing here like a voyeur watching her in her sleep. 'So, here goes I guess.' he thought resignedly, and reached out a hand toward her bare shoulder. He pressed his lips together and touched it gently. She stirred slightly, curling up a little and murmuring soft incoherent nothings in her delicate voice. He smiled softly in spite of himself. Sure it was a terrible burden, being coerced into coming in the morning and seeing her like this... but it was an awfully nice privilege too, when it came right down to it...

"Frey..." He called gently, cupping her shoulder with his palm and nudging her a little. She stirred again and rolled onto her back, drawing in a long breath and stretching herself out with a yawn. He swallowed, withdrawing his hand as she slowly blinked open her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile that melted him inside. When he spoke, he spoke softly, one corner of his mouth tugging into a smile that betrayed his affection, just a little."G'morning, Frey. Looks like the sun's up already."


End file.
